Chapter 5
Five
“ E at, Evaline,” the devil murmurs from his seat next to me at the kitchen counter. Kenzo picks up the mug of coffee and takes a sip, not even sparing a glance from the phone in his hand. He’s been scrolling on it for the last ten minutes while the cook in the kitchen had food sent out. My stomach rumbles at the heavenly smell of bacon, eggs, and toast, but I don’t feel as if I can stomach it.
“I’m not that hungry,” I tell him as I move my fork around mindlessly on my plate. Kenzo pulls his gaze away from his phone, directing it entirely at me.
“You haven’t eaten since Vegas,” he growls.
“And whose fault is that?” I snark, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. It sure as hell isn’t my fault that I’ve been out for a little over twelve hours. That is all on him and whatever drug he gave me.
“Eat your food, Eve,” he demands calmly. “Or you will find out how little girls get punished when they don’t do as they’re told.”
Embarrassment floods through me. I can feel my cheeks heating at his crass words. Who talks like that? And punished? Pfft, if he wants to try to lay his hands on me, he’s going to end up losing one. For years, I watched my father abuse my mother, who just took it like a rag doll. I won’t be like her. I’ll fight tooth and nail before I let him raise a hand to me.
Not wanting to argue, I take a bite of the eggs and then another. Not realizing how hungry I was, I end up finishing the entire plate within minutes while he watches me.
“It was good,” I tell him, leaning back in my chair with my coffee clutched in my hands like it will somehow create a barrier between us.
“Good,” he says. “Jean is one of the best personal chefs in the city. He’ll be the one to help you decide meals that you in our home as well as anything else that requires food to be served.”
“Anything else?” I ask, confused. “Like what?”
As he takes another sip of his coffee, I can’t help but notice the way he never breaks eye contact. It’s as if he’s studying me, trying to gauge my reaction. “Events that the organization hosts,” he says casually, his voice smooth and controlled. “That is a wife’s duty, after all. To host parties and look good on my arm.”
My heart sinks at his words. Of course it is. It’s what society expects from a woman like me, married to a man like him. I feel a sense of disappointment wash over me, despite knowing deep down that this was always the arrangement.
He must see the defeat in my gaze because he sets his coffee cup down and leans in closer. “This is a business arrangement, Evaline,” he states firmly. “You are not my equal or my partner. You are a status symbol.”
“A trophy wife,” I spit out bitterly, feeling anger bubbling up inside me. “Just some pretty doll you can show off when needed.”
A smirk tugs at the corners of Kenzo’s lips, betraying his true thoughts on the matter.
“I doubt you are good for much more.” His words bite into my soul, spearing a piece of it and letting it die. “Unless you plan on putting on a show for my business associates. I’m sure I can find you a pole somewhere. Half naked and on stage seems to be the only thing you are good at, but I doubt you’d hold much attention outside of the slums you were gyrating in.”
He may as well have slapped me. The words sting, and my lower lip trembles before I can stop it. My retort sticks in my throat, and for some reason, it seems to amuse Kenzo. He’s like a vampire, feeding off my insecurities and pain. Instead of telling him how I ended up on the stage that night, I keep silent, going back to picking at my food.
Kenzo doesn’t say anything either, just frowns a little before leaning back in his chair to resume scrolling on his phone. I don’t know what I expected, honestly. Maybe something…more. Once again, I am relegated to nothing more than an accessory. My father no doubt spun that he is the one who has all the contacts when it was my hard work that earned those connections.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I blurt out. Kenzo’s gaze whips to mine, his eyes darkening dangerously. His expression remains blank for a few moments before the edges tip up into a small, amused smile.
“We’re married, wife,” he reminds me. Something in the way he says wife sends shivers down my spine, and not in fear. Lord, help my vagina around this man. Even if I hate him, she sure as hell has her own fan club going. “I expect you in my bed each night, ready to give me what our vows promise. Obedience.”
I nearly snort my coffee. “That isn’t how this works, husband .” I hiss the last word, spilling my bitterness and contempt into every syllable. “The only way you’re getting your dick in my vagina is if you force it, and I’m sure the society papers will love a tell-all.”
Something primal flickers across his face, causing the breath in my lungs to freeze and my heart to race. A lump forms in my throat when he pushes his chair back and lunges for me. My lower lip trembles as his hand wraps around my neck, pulling me toward him, my butt leaving the chair. He is squeezing tight enough to scare me, but not enough to cut off my air.
“Let’s get something straight, Evaline,” he snarls, his lips scant centimeters from mine. His hot breath rushes over mine, sending warmth to my core. “I am nothing like the scum you danced for on that scabies-infested stage. There isn’t a reason for me to take when so many women are willing to fuck me happily without whining about it.”
That stings. He might as well come out and say he’s going to be cheating on me.
“But you are my wife,” he continues. “And that means you will sleep in my bed. I won’t have my fucking staff whispering about us sleeping apart. But don’t worry, I won’t touch you. Rotten goods don’t interest me.”
With a rough shove, he releases my neck, and I fall back into the chair, wincing as the hard wood digs into my spine. He calmly retrieves his cell phone from the table and slips it into his suit pocket before pulling on his jacket. My eyes are trained on the dining room floor, too ashamed to meet his gaze.
“Saito will be your guard,” he announces, his tone commanding. I clench my jaw tightly and nod in response, still refusing to look up at him. “You won’t go anywhere without him. Is that clear?” His words are like a heavy weight pressing down on me, but I nod again in silence.
“Use your words, Evaline.” His voice holds a warning, and I know he won’t let me off the hook this time.
“Yes,” I manage through gritted teeth.
“Sir.” His reminder stings like a whip, and I force myself to say it.
“Yes, sir.” The honorific drips with disdain and resentment, but I know better than to show it openly. My hands grip the sides of the chair so tightly that my fingers ache, but the pain serves as a small distraction.
“Good wife.” He leans in and purrs in my ear, and I hate how it affects me. “Be a good girl while I’m gone today. My assistant will be coming by in an hour to fit you for some new clothes. Make sure you behave.”
“Yes, sir,” I say to placate him, hoping he believes my forced subservience. What else is there to say but what he wants to hear?
“If only that submission was real,” he chuckles, amused. He kisses the top of my head and is gone.
The sound of the front door closing has me relaxing in my chair, the tears I’ve been holding back flowing freely down my heated cheeks. This is the fate I was worried about. Everything I’ve ever dreamed of achieving is being torn from my grasp, and I can do nothing to stop it. My greatest fear is becoming reality, and I don’t know how to stop it.
Soon I will be exactly like my mother.
Trapped.
Abused.
Broken.